


Istylni

by Child_OTKW



Series: War Games [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assault, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Galra Keith, Implied/Referenced Gladiator Fighting, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9065587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Child_OTKW/pseuds/Child_OTKW
Summary: Zarkon looked down at him patiently. “You interest me,” the Emperor said simply. “and your heritage makes you even more desirable to have.”

  Keith frowned, not understanding what the alien meant by that, but he had no energy left to care.
“I will have you, eventually. It is left to you to choose how. As a prisoner, or as a guest. Make your decision wisely, istylni, or it will be made for you.”Keith, after weeks of being hounded by a ghost of his enemy, is finally confronted by a hallucination far too real. Along with an ominous offer.





	

_Come to me, little Paladin._

Keith shot up, a gasp tearing itself from his throat as the echo slipped through his mind. His violet eyes danced manically around his room, searching for the source of the familiar, rumbling voice.

His hand flexed around the hilt of his blade as he stayed half-crouched in his bed, prepared to attack anything that did not belong. He remained poised, muscles coiled, for a very long time.

Keith strained his ears, both hoping to find evidence that what he had heard was real – because then he would know he was not finally cracking – and dreading to hear anything – because that would mean _he_ was somehow communicating with him.

All he could hear was the gentle, reassuring hum of the Castle around him.

With a soft groan, Keith lowered his dagger and slumped back onto the soft mattress, tugging a hand ruthlessly through his messy black hair. He closed his eyes as frustration and confusion warred within him.

This was the fifth time in a month that this had happened.

It had started as nothing more than the constant feeling that something was watching him, eyes drilling into his head from every direction, even when he was alone – _especially_ when he was alone.

But after so long of being stared at, he had learned to brush it off.

In the orphanage, where the other children would point and whisper about his strange eye colour and the matron would watch him like a hawk – as if expecting him to set fire to the building. 

In the different homes, where everyone would always keep a close eye on him, just waiting for an excuse to ship him back like an unwanted toy; a pet that refused to preform tricks.

At the Garrison, stares of awe, envy, and even attraction had dogged his every step as he breezed through simulation after simulation, broke record after record. And after the words _**PILOT ERROR**_ , there was fear, wariness and harsh judgment that stabbed into him.

Even out here, in the vastness of space, beings still looked at him because of _human_ and _Paladin_ and _hope_.

So yeah, Keith had plenty of experience ignoring being stared at. So this sensation had been easy to push to the side. They had only just been separated at that point, and he had been running on vague optimism and fumes for a long time before their misfit family had reunited.

In such an unsteady time, it was not unlikely that he would become overly anxious and feel so paranoid. Because was it really paranoia if half the galaxy was out to get him?

But over time the sensation had changed. It became heavier, and felt like hot nails scratching down the inside of his skull, constant and badgering. Annoying, but he was nothing if not stubborn so it was not unbearable.

He powered on through, throwing himself into training with his teammates and helping free citizens from Galra control. It only continued to escalate, though.

The whispering had almost been undetectable at first, a soft brush of air that he could dismiss and forget. But it grew like a vine, twisting around him and invading his thoughts, until he could hear the words for what they were.

_Come to me, little Paladin._

It was always the same, the same words, same voice. A command that rattled his bones and stirred something restless inside him. And that – that was more difficult to ignore.

Keith pushed himself up, knowing from prior instances that he would not be able to sleep again this cycle. He slipped his jacket on and slid his dagger back into its sheath, its weight familiar and comforting in the cold.

He stood beside his bed in indecision.

Normally, he would just head to the training rooms and demolish drones until his limbs shook from exertion and exhaustion clogged his mind. It was a tried-and-true method of relaxation for him, and it allowed him to work out his tension in a way that spared his friends from having to deal with his foul moods.

But the restlessness in him was a different type, not something he could get rid of simply by pushing himself to the brink. So that left him with only one option.

His boots clicked against the steel floor of the Castle, the sound oppressively loud in the quiet. He passed by Hunk’s room, able to pick up on the shuddering snores from within. His lips quirked upwards in a small smile at the thought of the larger boy.

Month ago, if someone had told Keith that not only would he get Shiro back – not completely, not the Shiro he remembered, however _alive_ was good enough for him – but that he would have _friends_ , he would have laughed for a week straight.

Because Keith did not have friends. He did not _do_ friends. He never had.

People always had something to say about him, some opinion they just had to state. That he was too mean. Too violent. Too critical. Distant. Intense. Cold.

_“Keith, that’s cold, even for you.”_

When he was younger, Keith wondered if there was something wrong with him. There must have been, right? Because he had always found it so _so hard_ to connect with people, to even talk to them.

It was an insurmountable wall between him and the rest of the world, one he never could climb over. Over time though, that fragile hurt nurtured by those thoughtless comments dissipated and became sharp indifference.

It was not until Shiro stumbled into his life that he realised just what he had been missing all that time.

And now, he had a family. People he could rely on and turn to if he ever needed support. It was heady knowledge, and he clung to it with all the strength he possessed.

He knew he should tell them what was happening with him, that he was being hounded by a presence that sounded far too similar to their enemy for his liking. 

_Who knows, maybe Allura or Coran had a way to stop this?_

There was absolutely no way telling them about his hallucinations could go wrong.

And yet…

He did not want to worry them with something that was, for the most part, perfectly harmless. They were his family, sure, but Keith had been by himself for so long that handling things alone was instinct by this point. Asking for help was a new concept for him, and going to the others with such a little thing was selfish of him.

It was admitting that he could not handle the situation himself. It meant dragging them into something that did not concern them.

And the chances of this actually being something other than his overactive imagination tormenting him were slim at best. There was no point bothering them with this. He could handle a few sleepless nights.

The sound of his footsteps changed as he entered the hangar, and Keith looked up, his eyes immediately falling on Red.

Just the sight of her magnificent, gleaming form eased the tight line of his shoulders. He walked towards her, feeling the link between them bloom like a flower. He was filled with warmth as their minds mingled.

His gloved hand rested on her fore-paw and he stroked the smooth surface lovingly.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, “how’re you doing darlin’?”

A purr echoed in his mind, and he smiled a little brighter as the weight of her presence enveloped him. These were the moments he treasured with Red. Not necessarily the battles and the ferocity they shared, nor the way piloting her got his blood rushing and unlocked the wildness he usually kept carefully contained. 

It was when they became linked so intrinsically that Keith had trouble telling where he ended and she began.

There was an understanding between them, and it was that connection that allowed them to work so seamlessly together. That link pushed them to keep fighting.

_“You fight like a Galra soldier.”_

A small frown overtook his features at the memory.

Even though their – admittedly one-sided – fight had been over a month ago, Zarkon’s comment still played on his mind from time to time, especially since the whispering had begun. 

There had been appreciation in the Emperor’s tone, and a small note of surprised delight.

The offhanded remark had gone unacknowledged at the time, but afterwards it was all he could think of. He still did not know what he felt about the statement – should he be flattered that the Emperor himself had seen something in Keith that reminded him of his own soldiers? 

Or should he be disgusted?

The Galra were oppressing billions of people throughout the universe. They were dangerous and ruthless in their expansion. Surely being compared to them was a terrible thing?

He sighed and opened his eyes, staring into his distorted reflection on Red’s leg.

“What do you think darlin’?”

A series of images flickered in front of his eyes.

_A hangar. A shield. The Galra symbol blazing. Zarkon’s eyes reaching up at him through the red glow._

And feelings.

_Boredom. Longing. Anger. Respect._

Keith frowned in concentration as more pictures came to him.

_A figure, dressed in his armour. Fighting, protecting him, so fierce and reckless and small. Violet eyes wide as he fell into the void of space. Fear on his face, but also a biting sense of victory in his eyes at having defeated his enemies._

He gasped as the sensations overwhelmed him.

_Approval and amusement. Knowledge that this boy was his. This child was the one he had been waiting for. Finally, someone worthy._

Keith’s hand fell away from Red’s paw as he grasped at his head. “I don’t know what you were trying to tell me there, but let’s not do that again.” He groaned, hunching over and squeezing his eyes shut. “It feels like you drove a pickaxe into my brain.”

There was a brush of apology that soothed the throbbing ache in his head, as well as a dose of mirth at his childlike whines – before Red settled.

Keith grumbled under his breath. 

It was times like this that reminded him that the lions were something completely unique, and in a way, untouchable. They were such complex creatures, alive and sentient in their own way, yet still straddling the line between organic and machine. 

It was fascinating and made Keith’s mind race with questions about their origins. Who had made them? How were they made? Where did their sentience come from? Was it just an AI – or something far greater?

When they were connected, Red felt like a real person to him. It made it hard for him to see her as a weapon, when he could literally feel her pain, her fury and her protectiveness.

Keith brushed his fringe out of his eyes. As he did so, he caught a glint of a figure behind him in Red’s forelimb. 

Adrenaline burst through his veins, and Keith spun to face the figure, dagger drawn and held defensively in front of his chest.

When he caught sight of just who it was, icy fear washed through him.

Zarkon stood mere feet in front of him, head tilted up and eyes fixated on Red’s face. He was a lot smaller than he had seemed during their fight, but Keith had had a taste of the monster’s true abilities. He knew the Emperor was perfectly capable of crushing him on a whim.

Keith’s fingers tightened around his dagger’s handle as he shifted to a more defensive position. He was in serious trouble. When they had faced one another, he had been safely inside Red’s cockpit, in full armour and with a wide array of weapons at his disposal.

Here, dressed in his casual clothes, with only a flimsy little blade to protect himself with, the chances of him successfully fending off any attacks were dismally small.

He was not about to let his fear show though. “How did you find us?” he demanded. “How did you get aboard?”

The Galra leader did not answer him, though his illuminous purple eyes pointedly slid from Red’s hulking form, down to Keith. It was hard not to cower under such a weighty gaze.

Keith grit his teeth to steel his nerves, daring to take a step closer and angling his dagger readily. “Answer me, Galra. How the fuck are you here?”

Again, the Emperor refused to speak.

Keith reached out mentally to Red, seeking her assistance and some of her courage, but before he could establish a connection with her a wall slammed closed between them, cutting him off. He flinched violently at the sudden sense of loneliness. It was just wrong, not being able to feel her.

He wondered if this is what it was like for Zarkon – being separated from the Black Lion.

“You are impressive, little Paladin.”

The voice was so sudden that Keith twitched, before the words registered in his head. He swallowed uneasily, not knowing what to do with the compliment. 

Zarkon’s mouth curled up in a devastating smile. 

“To have formed such a bond already, and with the most fickle of the lions…commendable.”

“You haven’t answered my questions.” Keith spat out, eyes darting about for a way passed the purple alien. It would be difficult to get around him, seeing as Zarkon was perfectly positioned to block Keith from the hangar entrance.

But if he could do it…he could warn the others. 

There was a noise like thunder, and Keith started when he realised it was…laughter. The sound of mockery snapped his already frayed mindset, and with a yell he charged at the Emperor.

He slashed with his dagger, though no matter where he aimed, Zarkon evaded him, his movements as smooth as water and seemed so contradictory to his large, muscular body.

Keith skidded to a halt as Zarkon stepped to the side and his momentum carried him forward. He pivoted on his heels and leapt once more.

His moved with pure instinct at this point, and for a few seconds Keith was positive he would actually land a hit. He jabbed with his dagger, aiming for the alien’s stomach, where his armour was thinner.

The rush of victory was cut short when he passed through the Emperor, having to land in a roll to avoid accidently stabbing himself as he fell.

Keith came to a stop on his knees, his chest heaving as his muscles strained. Snarling at his own weakness, he forced himself to his feet.

He was confused, as Zarkon made no move to retaliate, even though Keith was clearly open to an attack. 

_What is he waiting for?_

Keith shifted, getting ready to launch himself again when Zarkon disappeared.

Keith swung his gaze around the hangar, searching frantically for his enemy. He rotated quickly, and as he turned to face Red a hand slammed into his back, shoving him forward and into the cool metal of the lion’s leg.

The breath was knocked out of him, and his dagger tumbled from his hand as the impact dazed him.

Keith tried vainly to escape the constricting hold, but Zarkon was so much stronger than him, and with the Emperor’s hand spanning across his back, pinning him, there was little he could do without injuring himself.

Knowing it was futile, Keith went limp. He could feel Zarkon’s pleased hum travel through the alien’s chest, down his arm and into his back.

Keith stretched out his legs, feeling for the ground. The tips of his boots only just brushed against the steel floor, and the pit in his stomach grew.

“Your ferocity, while amusing, was foolish.” The Emperor’s voice sounded close to his ear, and Keith twitched at the sensation of soft puffs of breath on his neck. “I understand now why the Red Lion chose you as her Paladin. You embody her tenacity and recklessness, as well as her thirst for blood.”

There was a tinge of amusement to Zarkon’s words, particularly towards the end. Keith clenched his jaw to keep his words inside in his mouth, biting his tongue so as not to make this worse for himself.

“You will listen to me, Paladin, and heed my words carefully.” The pressure on his back increased, until Keith was sure his spine was on the verge of breaking. It only alleviated when he let out a pain-filled keen. 

“You will fail.”

Keith’s eyes popped open, his lips twisted up in a sneer and before he could stop himself his body began thrashing. “You’re wrong!” he hissed, “We will beat you, we will break your hold over everyone! We’re going to-”

He coughed when Zarkon stepped closer to him, chest crushing into Keith’s back and his thighs trapping the boy’s legs against the metal lion. 

He could not breathe.

“You will not succeed.” The Emperor continued brutally. “Your team is weak, your princess is from a bygone era and clings to false hope. You may have the lions, and you may be able to form Voltron,” Zarkon’s lips brushed against his ear. “but you will never defeat me. You cannot begin to imagine my power, little soldier.”

Keith trembled, overcome with rage, but also fear at how confident Zarkon sounded. As if they truly did not pose a serious threat to him, or his empire. Denials jumped to the tip of his tongue, demanding to be spoken, and yet he found himself unable to open his mouth.

Because these were thoughts that had already slivered through Keith’s mind. During those horrible weeks when they had been separated and alone and broken. They had lost so swiftly, had been split across the universe so easily, had barely managed to scrape themselves together again.

Zarkon was right. They were weak. As they were, they had no chance of stopping the Galra Empire from expanding and destroying countless lives.

Unbidden, images bubbled to the forefront of Keith’s mind. Of Earth, blackened and burnt. Of his defenceless planet being targeted by the monster behind him; targeted and conquered.

He could already taste the ash in his mouth.

That is what would happen if they failed. Keith could not bear the thought of his home being just another victim of Zarkon’s ruthlessness.

But he could not deny that the way things were right now, Earth being destroyed was a high possibility. 

“You understand your position, then. You are fighting a war you cannot hope to win. You are sacrificing everything in the name of a cause you do not believe in. Ask yourself, Paladin, just what do you think will happen to you when you fail?”

Keith breathed harshly through his nose, but Zarkon had stopped talking and was obviously waiting for an answer. He licked his lips. “I will be killed,” he forced the words out no matter how they got stuck in his throat. “public execution, to make a statement to anyone who wants to try and stop you after us. Or…” he hesitated, “you’ll put me in the arena to fight, like you did with Shiro.”

Shiro – Christ, Keith did not want to be put through whatever Shiro experienced in the arena. His friend had lost something of himself in that place, and Keith was so much weaker than Shiro, mentally and physically. He would not survive long if he was dropped there.

Zarkon chuckled, and again Keith could feel the rumble through his back. “So innocent, even exposed as you have been to the horrors of war.”

Keith flinched when a hand curled over his hip, he could feel claws digging into his flesh through his thin shirt. The Emperor’s mouth hovered over his shoulder, close enough that Keith could feel the alien’s lips whenever his shoulder moved with each panicked breath.

“I have no doubt that you would be magnificent in the arena,” the monster murmured, “a new Champion. One that does not hesitate to eliminate his opponents. Your predecessor,” Keith could almost hear the scorn in Zarkon’s tone at the mention of Shiro. “was a strong fighter, but he did not have the instinct of a killer. You on the other hand,”

Zarkon’s hand slid higher, dragging Keith’s shirt up slightly so the cool air of the hangar tickled his bare skin. “have all the components of a gladiator. You would fight, you would win, you would kill – and the crowds would cheer for you. The Red Paladin – Champion of my arena. Merciless to all who crossed him.”

“I –” Keith choked, hating what he was hearing, and the grip this creature had on him. “I’m not a killer.” He protested, voice soft and almost pleading. 

“You have already slaughtered thousands of my soldiers in our last encounter. How many Galra did you think were on those ships you so efficiently tore through? How many lives did you take with your cannon? How many families did you tear apart, do you wonder?”

“Collateral damage,” he sneered, even though he felt sick for saying so. “and I’d wager that out of the two of us, I have less blood on my hands. How many people have you killed in your lifetime? How many billions have you murdered?” Keith started to writhe again, his anger brewing like a fire in his chest.

Zarkon stepped back from him suddenly, though before Keith could use his newfound freedom to escape, his arm was seized and he was once again shoved against Red’s leg, this time chest to chest with the Emperor.

Keith tried to punch the bastard, but Zarkon took both his arms and held them tightly with one of his hands. “Let me go!”

“Your spirit is admirable, and I know it would serve you well in the arena.” The Galra leaned in, pressing his scarred face closer the Keith’s and forcing the Paladin to crane his neck back to avoid him.

“But I would be a fool to place such a valuable fighter there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he spat, still attempting to rip his arms free from the unrelenting grip.

“You are a prize, one I would not allow to waste away in pointless fights for entertainment. I was not lying when I told you, you fight like a Galra. You have the makings of a skilled warrior in you, and I wish to harness your talent.”

“As if I would ever fight for you!” He barked, “I would rather die than do anything for you!”

Instead of anger, Zarkon appeared amused at his claims. The sight of the Galra’s patronisation incensed him further.

“You say that now, Paladin. But after a few months in my care, I guarantee your opinion would change.” Zarkon’s free hand came up and grasped his chin, pulling his head up until it was at an uncomfortable angle. “Every creature has a breaking point, even one as stubborn as you. Months, years, it does not matter. The end result would be the same.”

He was forced to look into those horrid purple eyes. 

“You would be _mine_.”

“I belong to no one.” Keith hissed vehemently. 

“Not yet.” Zarkon leaned back, his thumb brushing over Keith’s snarling lips. “Not yet.” He repeated.

The Galra Emperor released him, and Keith crumbled to the ground with a grunt. His arms and legs trembled lightly; he finally became aware of just how tense his body was, and how exhausted he had become due to this situation.

He pulled himself to his knees and tilted his head up to stare at the towering purple shadow above him. 

His stomach rolled when he recognised the pleased expression on the Emperor’s face – pleased at Keith on his knees before him.

He wanted nothing more than to push himself to his feet, but there was no more strength in his body. 

“Why?” he breathed.

_Why are you here?_

_Why did you pick me?_

_Why are you telling me these things?_

_Why would you want me?_

Zarkon looked down at him patiently. “You interest me,” the Emperor said simply. “and your heritage makes you even more desirable to have.”

Keith frowned, not understanding what the alien meant by that, but he had no energy left to care.

“I will have you, eventually. It is left to you to choose how. As a prisoner, or as a guest. Make your decision wisely, _istylni_ , or it will be made for you.”

And just like that, Zarkon was gone.

Keith slumped against Red’s leg, eyes slipping shut as his body was overcome with fatigue.

In the morning, he woke in his bed, dagger securely tucked under his pillow and not a hair out of place. The only reminder of the threatening conversation were the five scratches down his side.

Keith allowed his shirt to fall back over the damning marks, stumbling back towards his bed as his breathing picked up in panic. 

With trembling hands, he pulled up his tablet and typed in the information he was looking for. 

The blood drained from his face as the text innocently blinked up at him from the screen.

_Istylni._

_Half-breed._

**Author's Note:**

> I've hit a bit of a snag with Consuming Shadows, so I figured I'd write a little something for a different fandom just to get my brain juices flowing again. Hope you guys enjoy this one.


End file.
